Awakening
by Myrddin Emrys The Third
Summary: Draco lost his memory in an accident, but when he learns where his life currently is, will he still feel that connection? Rated T, Dramione.


**A nice little one shot. Well, I think so anyway. Enjoy.**

**I don't own Harry Potter and co.**

_**Awakening**_

Slowly his eyes opened and he looked around, his head heavy and his thoughts groggy. Draco Malfoy groaned and brought his hand to his head, rubbing his temple. What in Merlin's name had happened? The last thing he remembered, that Umbridge woman was hem-hemming her way through his potions class, seriously disrupting his godfather's lesson. He smirked at the thought of her superior attitude towards Potter. The Boy Wonder was definitely in for it!

Looking around more properly, he saw that he was in a hospital ward, but it wasn't the one at Hogwarts. It was St. Mungo's, and that got him worried. Had he really been so badly hurt that he was transferred out of Hogwarts? Experimentally, he moved his body, checking for injury. There was a slight ache in his ribs and a receding headache, but other than that, whatever had been wrong with him seemed to be patched up.

Draco pulled himself into a sitting position, careful not to jar anything, just in case. The room he was in seemed to be a private one, naturally. He was sure that his father would have insisted on it. He threw the sheets off and swung his legs around, pausing to note the fact that he had a long scar on his right leg. Gingerly he stood, testing his weight, but it seemed fine, and he walked over to the mirror to get a better look at himself. When he turned on the light next to the mirror, it was all he could do to stop himself from passing out from shock.

The face that looked back at him wasn't that of a fifteen year old boy, like he expected. He was older, though not too old, maybe early to mid-twenties? In any case, that wasn't the most shocking thing. Draco noticed something like a bruise on his wrist, and when he looked down to see it properly, his breath hitched and his heart missed a beat before speeding up. A Dark Mark. He had a Dark Mark.

So many thoughts swirled around in his head. How had this happened? Did this mean that Potter was right, You-Know-Who was really back? A little dread entered him as memories of things his father had told him about him came rushing back. His father… Had he allowed his only son to take the Mark? Was the Dark Lord waiting outside his room, wanting him to go off and do some Deatheater task? Draco started to panic at this point.

He knew that because he was a Malfoy, a proud pureblood line that could trace their lineage back over a thousand years, that it had probably been expected of him to take it, but still… If he was to believe what he saw in the mirror, he was no longer a teenager, so just how long had he had the Mark? And just what had happened to the intervening years? Had he forgotten them somehow? The aching in his head seemed to suggest that perhaps he had amnesia.

There were no immediate answers to his questions, mostly because he couldn't remember shit, and he had to wonder what had happened to land him in St Mungo's, in that case. His head was still sore, and he figured that there was concussion involved somewhere, not to mention the memory loss that was painfully obvious. What else had been damaged in… whatever it was that had ended up with him in here?

Draco decided then that he was going to go out the door and find a healer or someone to answer his questions. But looking down, it occurred to him that he wasn't very well dressed, what with a hospital gown being all he was wearing, so he looked around and found a closet. Rummaging through, Draco found some suitable clothes, and was soon dressed in black pants and a casual but still dressy shirt. There were probably shoes somewhere, but he couldn't be bothered to find them.

The next thing he was concerned with was his wand. Searching high and low, he finally found one in a drawer, and the feel of it was a comfort to him. At least his wand hadn't changed. Taking a deep breath, Draco turned towards the door, tucking his wand into his pocket as he made his way to his escape.

Once out the door, he could tell that it was quite busy simply from the fact that people were rushing about in a near panic. There was a lot of noise that he hadn't heard before he'd opened the door to his private room, but he figured it must have been silenced so that he wasn't disturbed. In any case, he was determined to find someone and demand that they help him.

The first person he grabbed was a simple orderly, but Draco decided that he would do. "I need someone to tell me how I got here," he told the distracted wizard.

"I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy," the orderly apologised. "We're really busy at the moment, as you can probably tell. But if you return to your room, I'll send for healer Pepall, and he'll be up to see you as soon as this crisis is over."

Slightly surprised by this brush-off, no matter how politely the man had said it, Draco let go of the orderly's arm and the man rushed off, leaving a bemused Malfoy behind him. A moment later, he recovered his wits and scowled. He did _not _want to wait for someone to come tell him what he wanted to hear, he wanted them to come here now! Still, there seemed to be no way to get anyone here quickly, so Draco settled for going for a little stroll instead. Perhaps he could figure a few things out from observing.

Strolling through the corridors, it soon became apparent that there had been some kind of accident. Well, it had already been obvious to him that _something _was going on, but this was proof. Snippets of conversation told him that there had been some sort of celebration, and that some people in cloaks and masks- Deatheaters- had attacked the gathering. A lot of people had been hurt. But then, why was _he _here then? Surely they'd noticed his Dark Mark?

But soon his thoughts were interrupted when a voice boomed, "Oi! Draco! What in Merlin's name are you doing up here?"

Turning, Draco saw none other than the Weasel bearing down on him, and he felt his sneer grace his features. But before he could say anything, Weaselbee said, "You should be resting still, you twat! Your wife'll kill you, and probably me too, if you don't get back to bed."

The shock of the red headed loon addressing him so personally was nothing to the fact that there was a _wife _out there somewhere, one that was apparently also friendly with the Weasel. "What the fuck Weasel?" Draco spluttered, and this made the man dragging him back in the direction of his room stop to look at him.

"Wow, Draco," he said a little strangely. "You haven't called me that for three years."

_Why not? _he wondered. It suited him perfectly. Was there another insult he used for him, then? Draco opened his mouth to say something, but then his ears were assaulted.

"DRAKIE!"

Draco groaned. Pansy Parkinson. Sure enough, when he looked in the direction the screech had come from, there she was, still quite beautiful, but obviously still as shrill. _Please _don't let her be his wife! "Oh Drakie!" she cried, pulling him from an amused Weasel. "We were all so worried about you! I know Blaisey was frantic too, weren't you, snookums?"

Snookums? Draco turned his head to see Blaise walking toward them, a look of embarrassment on his face. It was then that his two fellow Slytherins- former Slytherins, all things considered- weren't really reacting to the Weasel's presence. What the heck was going on? Surely they weren't all, he gulped, _friendly _with him? But no one seemed to notice his discomfort.

"Weasley!" Blaise barked. "What the hell are you doing letting him out of his room like this? You know that the medic said he needed to rest, even when he woke up!"

"I believe he actually said 'if'," Weasley said, "but that's not the point. I found him just wandering around before, and for your information, I was taking him back to his room."

What was he, a child to be punished and locked in his room? But once again, Draco didn't get to say anything, because then a healer turned up. "What is all this racket about?" the medi-wizard asked rather calmly. "There are patients that require rest here, not to mention healers are trying to work."

"Sorry, Healer Pepall," Blaise said. "We were just trying to get Draco back to bed."

The healer, the one that orderly had mentioned before, turned his gaze to him, a disapproving look in his eyes. "Oh yes," he said. "Mister Malfoy, you really shouldn't be up and about right now."

"I feel fine," Draco muttered, finally able to get a word in edgewise.

"I'm sure you think so," Pepall said, "but you were quite badly injured, and I really think that you should let me check you over before you go gallivanting about the corridors."

Weasel sniggered, Blaise looked highly amused, and Pansy looked outraged. Draco, on the other hand, thought that the man's tone was rather similar to that old loon Dumbledore's when he spoke to someone seriously.

"Come on, then," the healer said. "Back to bed, and you lot, go tell Mrs Malfoy that her husband is awake."

The Weasel and Blaise shivered, making Draco wonder just what type of woman he'd married…

In any case, that didn't matter. The Weasel left to go find this mysterious wife, and Blaise and Pansy walked him back to his room. When they got there, Draco was determined to find out what was going on.

"Will someone please explain what is happening?" he demanded.

"You were injured, don't you remember?" Blaise asked.

Shaking his head, Draco told them, "The last thing I remember is being at Hogwarts in Potions."

Blaise and Pansy shared a look, and Pansy asked, "So then, according to you, what year should it be?"

"It should be 1995," he told them. "Thirteenth of December."

Another shared look, and Pansy told him, "It's 2003, and it's the fifth of May."

Draco experienced some rather nasty shock, despite the fact that he'd already figured that a lot of time had passed. Nearly seven and a half years! He sat back against the pillows rather shakily, closing his eyes and trying to take it all in. He had to know more.

"What about this?" he demanded, holding up the arm with the Dark Mark. "Potter was telling the truth, wasn't he, about the Dark Lord?"

Blaise nodded. "Yep, old Voldy came back alright," he told him, ignoring Draco's look when he called the dark wizard Voldy. "There was another war, obviously, and at some point your father messed up one of his orders, and you were forced to take the Mark to replace him after he went to Azkaban."

"How old was I?"

"Sixteen."

So a year then, possibly less, until he would take the mark, according to his timeline memories. "Who won the war?" he asked.

"Potter and his pals," Pansy said. "It really was for the best, too. There were a lot of things that You Know Who had planned that wouldn't have gone well, even for us purebloods."

"What about my family?" Draco asked. "My mother and father?"

"Your father went to Azkaban," Blaise told him, "to finish his sentence, and now he's on permanent house arrest. Your mother was cleared of any wrongdoing. Potter spoke up for her because she saved his life at the end, so he could face Voldemort."

"Potter spoke for you, too," Pansy told him. "He and Weasley and your wife…"

Draco's eyes widened at the insinuation in her words just then. "Who did I marry?" he asked, repeating more firmly when they remained silent, "_Who _did I marry?"

Blaise sighed and said, "Granger. You married Hermione Granger."

OoOoO

His eyes opened again, and it all came rushing back to him. Not his memories, just what he'd been told that had caused him to pass out. It was utterly embarrassing to have basically _fainted_, and Draco wasn't looking forward to anything Blaise or anyone had to say about it. Groaning, his eyes were opened all the way and he looked over to see Blaise and Healer Pepall talking in hushed tones.

"Blaise," Draco groaned, and his friend looked over here and immediately came over.

"Drake," Blaise commented. "Welcome back. You gave us quite a scare there, though Healer Pepall says you only fainted."

The last bit was said with a smirk, confirming that his best friend thought this was funny as, and Draco glared at him. "Well you can thank your news," he snapped. "Don't you think you could have broken it a little easier than just blurting it all out like that?"

"I did break it easy," Blaise argued. "You're just a pussy."

Draco glared at him some more, then turned his head away, refusing to acknowledge him. Blaise laughed and said, "Man, you're acting just like the spoilt little brat you used to be. Still are, in fact."

Draco continued to ignore him.

Just then the door opened and someone stepped through. Draco looked over to see the most beautiful woman walk into the room, she seemed almost to glide in. She was so lovely, she took his breath away, and the look on her face was one of worry and concern, mixed with a little anger that she seemed to be trying to hold back. He wondered who she was, then with all things that he'd been told considered, he guessed that this was Granger. Well, she was a Malfoy now, wasn't she?

Blaise confirmed it a moment later when he greeted, "Hermione. Are you sure you should be here?"

She glared at him, confirming to Draco that this really was Granger, and snapped, "He's my husband, I have a right."

Blaise nodded his head in acknowledgement, and said, "We'll just leave you two alone then. Healer Pepall, shall we?"

The two of them left, leaving Draco alone with the woman he'd tormented as a child and teen, and felt afraid to look in her eyes. But she wasn't having that. Hermione sat on the bed next to him and took his chin in her hands, making it impossible for him not to see her. She stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, releasing him.

"Pansy told me that you've lost your memory," she said, standing up. "I didn't believe it at first, but when I looked into your eyes just now, I saw who you used to be, and not the man that I love. I'm sorry. Have they said anything to you about what you can't remember?"

Draco nodded, still looking away now that he was free to do so once more. "They told me about the war, about my Mark, about you… But I don't understand, why would you marry me? I mean, I wasn't exactly the nicest bloke to you in school."

He chanced a look up and saw that she was smiling. "I've told you this before, but obviously I need to tell you again. You've changed, Draco Malfoy, you're no longer the spiteful little boy you used to be. The war changed everyone, you included. We've all put aside our childish rivalries and we grew up. Besides, if people couldn't change like that, then I wouldn't even be here."

Confused, Draco asked, "What do you mean?"

"My parents absolutely hated one another when they first met, in school," she told him. "They were just like us, always at one another's throats. My father had some rather unique insults for my mother, but she gave back just as good as she got. It was only inevitable that they fell in love. Like us."

Draco felt more than a little uncomfortable, and Hermione seemed to notice this. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "Is this too much for you to take in?"

Shaking his head, he said, "It's just a lot to process, it's not too much."

They were silent for awhile, Draco simply sitting there in the bed, and Hermione standing halfway between the door and the bed. Finally, she moved towards him, and sat on the bed once more. Her hand came up to cup his cheek and his eyes widened as she leaned forward and brushed her lips ever so slightly against his. The whisper of a touch roused him in a way he never would have thought possible with _her_, and before he realised what was going on, Draco reached up and grabbed hold of her, pulling her down and deepening the kiss.

Hermione practically fell on top of him as they snogged, and the sensations running along Draco's spine were more intense and satisfying than with any of the girls he'd been with. Her lips were soft and yielding, yet firm and determined, and he found he rather liked that combination. Running his hands along her back, he moved one down to cup her bum and the other up to get tangled in her hair. Before it could go too far, though, she pulled away.

Pouting, Draco tried to pull her back in for another kiss, but Hermione giggled. "At least your enthusiasm for snogging is as strong as ever," she commented as she extricated herself from his grip. "Do you want me to get Blaise? He can answer anymore questions you may have."

"Why can't you answer them?" Draco asked, still wanting her lips on his.

"I can if you want," Hermione agreed, "but we should probably keep the snogging to a minimum."

He pouted again and she grinned.

When Blaise came back in, Pansy was with him again. They noticed Hermione's slightly dishevelled appearance and Blaise couldn't seem to stop himself from remarking, "Been trying to jog his memory have you, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed and hit him, hard.

"Alright, stop that!" Draco commanded a little grouchily. "I have more questions, and I want answers for them!"

"Alright, man!" Blaise dramatised. "What do you want to know?"

They spent forty minutes going over everything that had happened in the past seven years, from the death of Albus Dumbledore, to the Order being the only thing going to resist Voldemort. Then there was the end, the final battle at Hogwarts, his mother telling the Dark Lord that Potter was dead when he was in fact alive, said hero then standing up and preventing Narcissa and Draco from going to prison, the defeated look on his father's face as he was hauled off to Azkaban, and finally, Hermione herself.

She told him how they'd re-met in a bookstore one year after the war, and how he'd apologised for everything, and then asked her out. She'd refused, but apparently that hadn't stopped him, and he'd pursued her until she gave in and they started dating. They'd endured gossip and disapproving friends and family, until Draco had popped the question in front of everyone, had gone down on one knee even though no Malfoy had ever done so before, and they had become engaged.

Then Draco learned how he'd started a tentative friendship with Potter and Weasley, and how they'd finally accepted that he wasn't going anywhere. And then there was the wedding, the event of the century. Reporters had been banned from the ceremony, but had been allowed to take pictures afterwards. Only Rita Skeeter wasn't allowed there at all, considering Hermione's distaste of the woman.

When they were done, they all just sat there, allowing Draco to absorb all this knowledge. After a look from Hermione, Blaise and Pansy left, and Draco wondered what was going to happen now. Everything he'd been told was spinning around in his head, and he felt the need to ask her a question.

"Why did I pursue you so determinedly?" he asked.

"You told me it was because when you saw me standing there, you decided that I was the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen in your life," Hermione told him, blushing. "You said that you wanted me all to yourself, our past be damned, but that you knew it was going to be difficult, considering all the bad blood between us. But you never gave up, and I'm glad of that."

The most beautiful woman? He could believe that, considering that was basically his first thought when he saw her earlier. Draco reached up and let his fingers brush her cheek, and he told her, "It's the truth, you _are _the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes, and she flung herself at him, hugging him tight as she sobbed against his chest. He held her as she cried, whispering soothing words, rocking her gently. The vague recollection of doing this before hit him, and he smiled, feeling that that was enough evidence that he would get his memory back eventually. Hermione then pulled away from him, wiping her tears away.

"There's something else I need to tell you," she told him. "I told you before, but obviously you've forgotten. Draco… I'm pregnant."

Draco pulled her to him again, this time pulling her under him and covering her body with his. His lips were on hers almost instantly, and she responded eagerly, not seeming to be able to hold back from him again. They just kept kissing, ignoring everything around them, even Pansy when she knocked on the door to ask if she and Blaise could come back in yet, even when the door opened and they were told to control themselves, this was a hospital after all.

No, they were too caught up in one another for any of that to matter.

OoOoO

_Six months later…_

Draco Malfoy sat on a comfortable chair, watching as his heavily pregnant wife argued with a house elf about who would be cleaning what. A grin graced his features as he knew that the woman he loved was never going to change, and he was happy with that. If she changed in any way, the world would probably come to an end, and they didn't want that now, did they? In any case, they were happy, and that was all that mattered.

Six months ago when he'd lost his memory, he hadn't lost the connection he had with her, thank Merlin. It had taken him two weeks to get all his memories back, and they'd had a few arguments over what he remembered, but nothing major. No matter how many times they argued in their married life, they never went to bed angry, as neither one of them could stay mad at the other for too long.

Just as it should be.

The baby wasn't due for another week, but the healers had told them to be prepared for anything, as the first child was unpredictable, more so than any others. But Hermione had a plan for everything, as usual, and had left no detail hanging about what they were going to do when the time came. She'd already decided that she was having the baby at the manor, and Olly, the house elf currently arguing with her, was going to get Molly Weasley when the time came so that she could deliver the baby.

A loud crack sounded and Draco noticed that Olly was gone. He smirked, thinking that Hermione had won the argument, but then his wife came over to him with a serious look on her face.

"Darling?" she said. "Can you help me get upstairs? My water just broke."

It took a moment for the fact to register in his brain, but then Draco was on his feet in an instant, leading his wife upstairs so that she could be ready for Molly when she arrived.

A few hours later, though, Hermione still hadn't given birth. "What's taking so long?" Draco demanded. "Is it supposed to be like this? Argh! I can't take this waiting!"

"Calm down, Draco," Ginny Potter said serenely, her hand stroking her own baby bump. "It will happen when it happens, you can't rush these things. When my mum and your mum think it's time, then it will be time."

Draco glared at the content red head, hating how calm she was. Finally, three hours later, which was after nearly seven hours of labour, there was the cry of a child, and Draco bolted into the room where he found his wife laying back with a content look on her face. Seriously, what was with these women and looking so damned satisfied? Hermione looked up at his approach.

"Hey, Draco," she greeted him. "Look what we made."

Draco came forward and saw his son cradled in her arms. "Isn't he beautiful?" she whispered, and he nodded.

"What are you going to name him?" Molly asked, Narcissa also coming up as well.

"Scorpius," Draco said. "Welcome to the world, Scorpius Malfoy."

**So, I hope you liked it, and make sure you review.**


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